I'm a stay-at-home mum with two lovely kids, and a Kirstie Allsopp wannabe with a cheap sewing machine and designs above my station creatively speaking.

Sunday, 28 September 2014

"The (*ahem*) clucker will rue the day"

As anyone who knew me in my life "BK" (before kids) will attest, I was not adverse to peppering my rhetoric with a liberal smattering of expletives. Clearly I've had to clamp a lid on this ruthlessly now I am living with a 3 year old parrot and a 9 month old sponge, and I am pleased to report that I am now 99% curse-free (I think a person should get special dispensation for muttering at fools when behind the wheel of a car).
This new order of things was pushed to the limits the other morning when BEFORE COFFEE (which is ironic because I don't indulge in caffeine) I had to deal with a flying pterodactyl (daddy long legs / crane fly) AND an eight-legged assassin (spider) lurking in D's bottom wipes. Seriously. Inside his packet of bottom wipes.
I utterly loathe any form of creepy crawly, and am determined not to pass on the same terror onto my kids, so you can imagine the scene - Muhammad Ali-style footwork while waving around a humane insect catcher (the kind where you take the gadget outside to release the offending creature) trying to snare the pterodactyl. In my PJs. Finally managed it (after falling over a highly amused F twice) only to drop the gadget and release the ruddy thing right there in the room.

As Withnail said in a similar context in the wonderful film "Withnail & I", I thought "the (insert word that rhymes with 'clucker') will rue the day.....!!" and I battered it with the humane catcher. That'll learn it.

I dealt with the spider by chucking the job lot out of the window into the back garden while F & D looked on agog.